


Monster Under the Bed

by Donatello7



Series: The Day the Music Died [9]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: As much as an 8 year old can be BAMF, Character Death, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Near Death Experiences, Pappa Yondu, Peter is BAMF, but not permanent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3913366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donatello7/pseuds/Donatello7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Peter and Kraglin are trapped with a metaphysical parasite that forces them to face their worst fears. </p><p>Chapter 1 - “You’ve got guts, Boy, I’ll give you that.” Yondu gently removed the headset from Peter’s ears. “Proper Ravager, and not even nine yet.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I just wanted to write some H/C fluff. This was inspired by a prompt on the Kink Meme, but I deviated a LOT!!!

“I can’t believe I’m actually going to an alien world.” The eight year old is bouncing in his seat as he speaks. “We’re going to meet proper aliens.”

 

“As opposed to unproper aliens?” Kraglin mutters.

 

“You know. Aliens, with tentacles and wings and the ability to read minds and maybe those little grey ones like the toy my Grandpa bought for me when he and Grandma went to Roswell…”

 

“Yondu!” The teen shouted over his shoulder. “Can I swap seats?”

 

From the central piloting seat, Yondu gives the two boys sat up front a tooth filled grin. “Nearly there. Going to do you boys good to be planet side for a while. Too much time in one place can drive you mad.”

 

“Too late.” Kraglin mumbles, pulling a coat that was at least one size too big tighter around his torso. “Quill’s been mad since the day we found him.”

 

“Am not.”

 

“Am too.”

 

“Am not.”

 

“Going the right way about being marooned on this planet.” Yondu warns.

 

“Will they have robots?” Peter turns around and kneels in his seat, looking over the top. “Like on Star Wars?”

 

“What’s a robot?” Kraglin asks.

 

“Mechanical men.”

 

“Why would you build a mechanical man?”

 

“To serve people. Like doing the chores. Or go into dangerous fights instead of you.”

 

“Like slaves.” Kraglin crosses his arms.

 

“I guess so.” Peter looks back at Yondu. “So you don’t have robots in space?”

 

“Not that I’ve seen, boy.” Yondu double checks their coordinates. “Five minutes till landing.”

 

Peter turns back round to sit in his chair. “It would be so cool to own a robot.”

 

“Yeah.” Kraglin says quietly, before standing. “I’m going to the head.”

 

“Gross.” Peter scrunches up his face. “Do you have to tell us?”

 

Kraglin throws the child a rude gesture as he climbs down into the main part of the M-Ship.

 

Peter looks forward, then turns round in his chair. “Will they have Storm Troopers?”

 

* * *

 

To the child’s immense disappointment, the planet proves to be not unlike pictures that he has seen of parts of Earth. It is sand covered, and the buildings are made with sandstone, which does make it look a bit like Tatooine, but otherwise it could easily have been back home. Even the aliens did not all look that alien. Mostly they were Xandarian, or similar looking species like the Luphomoids.

 

To be honest, it was all rather disappointing.

 

“I bet Xander is way cooler than that old planet was.” He says once they are back on the Eclector.

 

Kraglin shrugs, and spits toothpaste into the sink. “The Nova City is okay, I suppose.”

 

“Can we go there?”

 

Peter looks from the mirror to Kraglin, only to find that the Teen is now looking over his shoulder, eyes fixed on the bathroom door.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Shh.” Kraglin switched off the faucet, and slowly crept to the door. “I heard something.”

 

“Probably just one of the crew…”

 

Kraglin shook his head, a finger to his lips. “Since when did any of the crew speak Kree?”

 

Peter bit his bottom lip. He had never seen a Kree, but he had heard enough stories to build a picture in his head. Giant monstrous trolls, like on Dungeons and Dragons. “Are you…”

 

Kraglin emphasizes the finger against his lips, shaking his head, before indicating with a hand gesture that Peter is to stay exactly where he is. The Terran nods, and Kraglin quietly slips out of the door.

 

Peter crosses his hands over his chest, hand fisting at the material of his pyjama top as he looks from left to right in the suddenly very dark, very shadowy bathroom. BANG BANG BANG. He span round. No. That is okay. He remembers Harris explaining. Air gets trapped in the pipe sometimes. It makes them bang.

 

BANG BANG BANG.

 

“Quiet.” Peter says to the pipes. It’s not far from here to his room. He could make a dash for it. Grab his tripod. He didn’t know how to calibrate it for Kree, but it is the closest thing to a weapon that he has, and maybe it would be useful for something. But Kraglin told him to stay here.

 

Shouldn’t someone tell the Captain that there is a Kree onboard though. Where has Kraglin gone?

 

His mind made up, Peter tiptoes over to the door, holding his ear up against it and, when he doesn’t hear anything, opening it. The corridor is lit for night, and it makes Peter’s skin look red as he half runs back to his quarters.

 

The scream stops him dead in his tracks.

 

“Kraglin?” Peter shouts without thinking, turning and running in the direction of the scream. He rounds a corner. Another. “Where are you?”

 

“Why are you running, Baby?”

 

Peter swallows, turning slowly. It’s couldn’t...but...how… “Mom?”

 

“Is something scaring you?” His mother kneels down in front of him. “You know I would never let anything hurt my little Star Lord.” She moves a strand of red hair to behind Peter’s ear. “I’ll always protect you.”

 

And her own hair is falling out.

 

Peter shakes his head, stepping back away from the woman as her skin flakes. Her eyes melt in their sockets. He could see bone through her now translucent skin.

 

“What’s the matter, Baby?”

 

Peter screams as the...thing...the thing that had been his Mother, lurches forward and shatters against the floor. The fluid covers his bare feet, and he scurries backwards in an upside down crawl, kicking at the floor.

 

Peter turns at the sound of footsteps, brings his hands up to shield his face as the monster marches towards him.

 

Trapped in the corner, Peter can’t escape.

 

“Get AWAY from him.” Peter looks up, and there is Kraglin, stood between him and the monster. It is a Kree, has to be. He is a giant of a man. If Peter had been standing on Kraglin’s shoulders, they would not have been taller than the brute.

 

The Kree smiles, black war paint glistening against his skin, and he cracks the whip in his hand. It is clearly electrified, and Peter can see the jolt of fear that runs through the Xandarian as he steps back, before glancing quickly at Peter and finding enough resolve to turn, sobbing as he does, and face the Kree.

 

“I won’t let you take him. He won’t live that life.”

 

The whip cracks again, and Peter looks from the Kree to the shattered remains of his Mother on the ground.

 

Peter stands, feeling dizzy, sick to his stomach. He reaches for Kraglin’s arm, only for the teen to push him back, a splayed hand held against the child’s chest.

 

“Run, Pete.”

 

Peter shakes his head, eyes darting back to his Mother’s corpse. He feels sick again.

 

“RUN!”

 

The whip cracks again, the Kree laughing as he enjoys the fear that it inflicts on the teen. And suddenly they are not on Eclector anymore, but another ship. Dark, brutal. The black hull seems to move as if made of liquid.

 

“No. Not here. Not here. Not here.” Kraglin shakes his head, his resolve crumbling with each crack of the whip. He turns. He has to protect Peter.

 

Peter is gone.

 

“Peter?” The terran child turns. “What did you do you bastard?” Murray points at the corpse. “You killed her. You little bastard. I’ll tear you apart.”

 

Yondu’s corpse. Kraglin’s corpse. Horuz. Klo. Harris. Narri. All fallen apart. Red blood. Blue blood. Bone.

 

Yondu’s eyes stare straight at him.

 

Peter screams, and Peter is in his house on Terra. And it is filled with corpses. Grandma. His aunt and uncle. Grandpa.

 

“Why Pete?”

 

And he collapses to the floor.

 

“Quill!”

 

“You killed them all. I’ll tear you apart.”

 

Peter wakes up screaming, kicking and punching at the air until the figure knelt over him calms him down. “Easy, boy. Easy. Just a nightmare. See, just a bad dream.”

 

Peter doesn’t even hesitate. He grabs Yondu around the neck and latches on, burying his face in the Centaurian’s shoulder and sobbing with all the breath he has left. Yondu doesn’t pull him away. Instead he stands with the child in his arms, one hand rubbing his back.

 

“Just a dream.” Yondu indicates the scanner hanging at his waist. “Looks like Krags picked up a Vulcon on that planet. Little parasite critters feed off adrenaline, so they create a psychic field to frighten to host. Guess you were close enough to Krags for it to hurt you too.”

 

Upon hearing his friends name, Peter lifts his head and looks around the empty corridor.

 

“He’s fine. Horuz is with him. Had to get you away from the psychic field. What it make you see?”

 

“I saw...” Peter mumbles, after a moment. “Everyone was dead and I killed them. Mom was there, and when she touched me it killed her.”

 

“You didn’t kill her, Boy. Was an illness. Ain’t no ones fault when it’s an illness.”

 

“Murray was...I was going to be punished.”

 

Yondu nods, and Peter feels the hand return to rubbing his back. “That bastard ever comes near you, I’ll tear his hide apart with my bare hands.”

 

Peter leans back in the embrace. “Promise.”

 

Yondu nods, his face serious. “Ravager’s honour.”

 

“Okay.” Peter yawns, and leans his head back against his foster father’s shoulder. “Is Kraglin going to be okay.”

 

“He’ll be fine. Damn things only live a couple of hours once they’ve hatched. How about we go visit him once he’s woken up. He’ll need to see a friendly face, I expect.”

 

Peter sniffs. “I saw his dream too.”

 

“What did he get shown?”

 

* * *

 

When Peter sneaks into the medical bay a few hours things are not looking good.

 

Kraglin is laid on the central bed, curled up on his side in a tight foetal position, sobbing in his sleep. Every now and again he cries out, flinches, as if he’s been struck with something.

 

A whip, maybe.

 

Yondu notices Peter. “Shouldn’t be in here boy.”

 

“I don’t understand.” Horuz crosses his arms. “It’s not even starting to deteriorate. I don’t think the damn thing is a natural Vulcon.”

 

“Badoon.” Yondu grits his teeth. “Seen them use genetically engineered Vulcons as execution.” The centaurian shakes his head.

 

“Yondu.” Horuz dropped his voice. “You said this is an execution?”

 

“Keeps you scared and in pain.” He nods. “Eventually the heart gives out and you die”

 

Peter shivers, hugging himself.

 

“Should have known something was up when the contact didn’t show. This whole things been a badoon trap from the start. Probably me as the target. Probably snuck into my drink. Kraglin didn’t like his, so we swapped.”  The Centaurian mentally kicks himself.

 

“What can we do?”

 

“We’ll need the flush it out.” Yondu explains, already sorting through the medical supplies. “Specific toxin mix can make the host reject the parasite. Kid will puke for a couple of days, but I reckon he’ll thank us for it.”

 

“Probably best that Quill not be here.” Horuz says, indicating Peter. “Psychic field is locked down, but Quill is already a part of it. If he falls asleep here...”

 

“Kraglin’s all alone in there.” Peter says, stepping forward. “If I go back to sleep here, then he won't be alone anymore.” Peter looks from Horuz to Yondu. “He’d do it for me, I know he would.”

 

Yondu crosses his arms. “You say that field is locked down.”

 

“Completely. Only person that can go back in is Quill. Trust me, otherwise I’d already be there.”

 

“I ain’t letting you do that, Boy.” Yondu says, kneeling down to Peter’s eye level. “It’s too dangerous.”

 

“But he’s hurting. He might be dying already.”

 

As if on cue, the teen cries out again, turning onto his back.

 

“And if it shows you your nightmare again?”

 

“I’ll know what it is now. And I’ll have this.” Peter slowly takes his backpack off, and pulls out his walkman. He puts the headset on, and plays the tape from the beginning. “All the time I can hear that, I know it’s the dream.” He shouts over Blue Swede. “And if it goes wrong, you can just pull me away from the field like you did last time.”

 

Yondu lets out a breath, and shakes his head. “You’ve got guts, Boy, I’ll give you that.” Yondu gently removed the headset from Peter’s ears. “Proper Ravager, and not even nine yet.”

 

“Yondu?” Horuz says with a warning tone.

 

The Captain pats Peter on the shoulder, and nods. “Set him up a bed, Horuz.”

 

* * *

 

“When you find him, try and keep him calm.” Horuz is explaining while settling Peter on the bed. “This treatment is going to take time. Calmer he is, longer he’ll last.”

 

“Don’t be scared, boy.”

 

“I’m not scared.” Peter turns onto his side, clutching the walkman to his chest. He closes his eyes, focusing on Norman Greenbaum. He feels the hizz of a hypospray administering the sleep aid, and feels himself drifting.

 

_So you know that when you die_

_He's gonna recommend you_

_To the spirit in the sky_

 

“This is a bad plan, Yondu.”

 

“Best plan we’ve got though.”

 

 

 

 


	2. The Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 - “It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s just a dream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ADDITIONAL WARNINGS for depiction of the death of a child, albeit in a dream.
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry my WIPS are so slow to update at the moment :-(

“Yondu.” The alien’s large eyebrows rise slightly as he looks at the boy, and then at his Master. “You said he was twelve?”

 

“He is twelve.”

 

“Well not a very well grown twelve.” The eyebrows raise even higher, and the alien picks up a pistol from his counter. “This pistol won’t do. The recoil will knock him over.”

 

“Boy’s got growing left to do.”

 

His Master and the strange alien, Broker, lead him to a small, long room at the back of the shop. There is a target at the end. Burned. Chipped.

 

_His old Master enjoys watching the weapons tests at the Conclave._

 

_The energy wave passes over the woman, flaying her skin. She screams._

 

Kraglin starts to tremble. It’s been just over a week since the Ravagers claimed him, and he knows that he keeps making mistakes and upsetting his Master. He had overheard his Master tell Horuz how angry it made him. “Damn boy’s a shell.”

 

_The man coughs, doubling over. And burns out from the inside. Everyone in the room laughs as they watch._

 

_His old Master makes him watch the weapons tests. So that Runt knows what happens to slaves who upset their owners._

 

_Someone announces that they are moving on to the biological weapons now._

“Go on then, Kraglin. Let’s test it.” His Master gently pushes him forward. He looks over his shoulder at his Master, and then back at the Broker, and the pistol.

 

His trembling becomes shaking, and he bursts into tears as he falls to his knees in front of the men, trying to speak, trying to say sorry, but unable to form any sound except hiccoughing. It hurts.

 

“What the Devil, Yondu?”

 

The Centaurian silences the Broker with a glare, and indicates the door to the room with a sharp nod while holding out his hand for the pistol. The Broker wordlessly hands it over.

 

As soon as they are alone in the room, Yondu aims at the target, and fires.

 

The boy jumps so violently that it must have hurt. A tear stained face looked from the target to the Centaurian and back to the target.

 

“Works well.” Yondu says. “Nicely weighted.” He kneels in front of Kraglin, and holds out the pistol. “Needs to be you that tests it. Seeing as its yours.”

 

The boy stares at the pistol, dumbfounded.

 

“You think we were going to test it on you?”

 

He nods, and flinches when his Master’s expression darkens.

 

His eyes fixed on the floor, he doesn’t realise that his Master is reaching out until he feels the hand resting between his still heaving shoulder blades.

 

“You going to pass out on me again?”

 

Kraglin nods, and then does just that.

 

* * *

 

“Come on, baby. You’re going to be late for school.”

 

Peter opens his eyes, and finds himself looking at horses galloping against a blue backdrop. He slowly pushes the duvet down and scurries up to sit on his pillow, rubbing at his eyes.

 

Peter yawns, and slips down to the floor. There was something he had to remember. What was it?

 

Wait. That isn’t his.

 

Peter slowly picks up the toy car from his bedside table, spinning one of the wheels. Wzzz. Wzzz.

 

The car was a present.

 

“First thing I got given when I joined the crew. Now it’s the first thing you’ve gotten to. And you give it to the next kid, maybe.”

 

“Peter, your breakfast is on the table.”

 

Peter nods to the empty room, putting the car back on the bedside table and slowly making his way downstairs. His Grandpa is sat at the table, reading the paper. Mom is making pancakes. Peter’s favourite breakfast.

 

The large grandfather clock ticks in the corner of the room.

 

“Do you want some syrup for your pancakes, sweetie.”

 

There was something that Peter had to remember.

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

 

“Damn good game last night.” His Grandpa says.

 

“I wish you wouldn’t say words like that  in front of Peter, Daddy.”

 

“Ah. Boy’s gotta learn proper words eventually.” His Grandpa says, throwing Peter a wink.

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

 

Yondu does that sometimes.

 

Yondu?

 

“Peter.” His Mom turns to face him. “Are you okay, baby. You look pale.” Her hand rests against his forehead, and it is like ice.

 

The clock chimes.

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

 

“Peter?”

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

 

Why can he hear music? He isn’t wearing his walkman.

 

“Peter?”

 

He looks from the clock to...no…

 

Pale, frail, her hand shaking as she reaches for him. “What are you afraid of, baby?”

 

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

 

He remembers.

 

“NO!” He screams. “You’re not real. YOU’RE NOT REAL AND YOU CAN’T HURT ME.” He puts his hands over his ears, and shuts his eyes.

 

When they open again, he is back in his bedroom. But his bedroom NOW. His bedroom on the Eclector.

 

Peter looks left. Right. And down...and there, on the table, is the toy car.

 

“Kraglin.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peter spins round and he is stood on a black ship. The walls seem to MOVE, they are so slick. It smells sterile, like burning flesh, and Peter can hear screams in the background.

 

He remembers.

 

“Where are you?” He calls, running up the corridors. The parasite had tried to trick him, tried to make him forget why he was here. So it could carry on hurting his friend without being disturbed.

 

“I’m smarter than you, though.” Peter shouts into the corridors, hoping that the parasite can hear him. “I saw you on the medical screen. You’re just a dumb BUG.”

 

A deep, booming sound echoes through the wall beside Peter. He rests his hand against it, and feels a vibration. So the ship was moving.

 

And the smell reminds Peter of when he had found a rat, dead for a week at least, at the back of his Grandfather’s barn.

 

The smell is coming from the two aliens stood looking at him. He recognises them from Yondu’s lessons.

 

Sakaraans.

 

“You can’t hurt me.” Peter shouts at them. “I know you ain’t real. WHERE’S MY FRIEND?”

 

The Sakaraan raises a rifle at the boy, and Peter ducks the blast out of instinct.

 

He knows it isn’t real, but he runs anyway. The corridors are like a maze, and each section looks the same. He reaches a junction and spins on the spot, looking up each corridor in turn. He’s lost.

 

Footfalls.

 

And lighter, faster footsteps.

 

They collide as Peter runs round the corner, and the taller boy that he hits falls back. He’s pale, his skin is almost translucent, and his eyes are wide and haggard, and covered in tiny blue lines, like a spider web.

 

But it’s Kraglin.

 

“Quill.” Still knelt on the ground, Kraglin grabs his friend into a tight hug. “Oh Gods. You’re okay. You’re alive.”

 

“You’re squishing me.” Peter complains, pushing out of Kraglin’s grip. The teen looks sick. Really sick. The way his Mom had looked when she had been bad.

 

“Why are you here?” Kraglin shakes his head. “It’s me the Kree wanted. Why did they take you too.”

 

“They didn’t.”

 

Kraglin shakes his and starts waving his hand, begging Peter to lower his voice.

 

“This is a dream.” Peter says, quietly. “None of it is real. You’re on Eclector, and Yondu and Horuz are there. There’s a bug thing in your brain making all this up.”

 

Kraglin shakes his head, his face falling. “We ain't playing Make Believe now, Quill. We are in big trouble. Real trouble. If they catch us, they’ll take us to the Conclaves for the tests.”

 

“Tests of what?”

 

Footfalls.

 

“Sakaarans.” Kraglin’s breathing speeds up. “They’ll...they will take us to the Conclave. We have to run. COME ON.”

 

“They can’t hurt us.”

 

The Sakaraans round the corner, and Kraglin raises his pistol. He fires three shots, and all three miss. He can barely see through tears.

 

“Run. RUN!” He grabs the boy roughly by the arm and drags him through the corridors.

 

“Kraglin, listen to me.”

 

And it seems like they are going in circles. And the Sakaraans are now in front of them.

 

“No!” Kraglin fires the pistol again. And misses again. They round a corner, through a door which closes behind them. The room is small, and empty. It is a dead end.

 

Kraglin looks from the wall to the door behind them, and then screams out his frustration. In the distance they can hear the marching Sakaaran.

 

“It’s okay.” Peter says, smiling. “It’s just like a nightmare. It’s not real. They can’t really hurt us. Only if we let them.”

 

Kraglin nods, reaching out to pat the smaller child on the shoulder. “You keep believing that, Pete.” His voice cracks as he looks away from his friend.

 

Why is Peter here? He’s just a child. What will they test on him. What will he suffer.

 

He only has enough charge left in his pistol for one shot. Not enough against an army of Sakaaran. Not enough against one Sakaaran.

 

He can’t let them take Peter.

 

He feels sick.

 

“Maybe we can wish up an army.”

 

Kraglin nods, biting down on his bottom lip. “You...um...you’ve got to close your eyes to make a wish.”

 

The Sakaarans are seconds away.

 

Peter closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

“Nooooo!” Peter flies awake, rolling off the bed to the floor where he would have landed hard had it not been for Horuz’s quick reflexes. Peter screams again, kicking and punching the burly Xandarian who promptly drops him the rest of the way to the floor with a gentle, but loud thud.

 

“What happened, boy?"

 

“He...I think…” Peter shakes his head, closing his eyes tight against tears and rocking slightly on the floor. His head. His head. It hit his head. It had burned for a second, barely a second, not long enough to feel pain. And then… “There was only one bullet left. He said…he...”

 

“You were probably slowing him down.” Yondu mutters. “No place for weakness in a fight.”

 

“But you always said…” Peter flinches at the criticism. “You said I’m not weak.“

 

“Then stop sniffling, boy. Bad enough you just killed your friend without crying about it.”

 

“Why are you being mean.” Peter whispers, his voice cracking as the fragile control on his emotions slips. “And I didn't...he's...”

 

The teen lays on his back, dead.

 

Peter shakes his head. “No!”

 

“Damn kid. I should shoot you myself. Kraglin. Your Mom. Everyone around you dies.”

 

“NO!” Peter is picked up. “LET GO OF ME!”

 

And he’s in the corridor, but not...how did he get outside the canteen?

 

“You’re out of the field, boy. You’re...AGH!” Yondu grunts as Peter kicks him hard in the stomach, dropping the boy. The child runs. The canteen is empty and Peter jumps onto the table, crossing the room easily to the other side. Here he is trapped again.

 

“Quill!”

 

“It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s just a dream.” Peter puts his back against the wall, shaking his head as the Centaurian approaches him. “It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s not real. Please. Kraglin's alive. They can't hurt you.”

 

He can’t breath. He can't think. Is this real.

 

Please don't let this be real.

 

“Quill?”

 

He feels his head strike the floor, and it's just darkness.

 

And Peter just prays that this time he really does wake up.

 

* * *

 

Kraglin can’t look. He has to look. He looks.

 

He drops the pistol and then drops to his knees. “I’m...I had to do it.”

 

And the soldiers arrive, grabbing him roughly and dragging him away. And Kraglin prays the way Klo taught him to do when he felt scared. He begs. He pleads. He does it silently, or maybe he does it out loud, he isn’t sure anymore. His heart feels like it has stopped. He can barely breath as the soldiers drag him through the corridors towards his fate.

 

He can hear music. He can hear Peter’s mix tape.

 

Peter is dead. Peter is safe. Peter is wherever souls go next. And he won’t ever know the fear and pain that lays ahead for the teen.

 

So why can Kraglin hear the music?

 

The soldiers throw him into a cage, and lock the bars. Alone, and safe for the moment, he tells himself that it doesn't matter what they do to him. Peter is safe.

 

He curls up, closes his eyes, and listens to the music.

 

* * *

 

Horuz holds the walkman delicately in his hand, watching the tape spin. Kraglin’s been quieter since he put the headset on him, and he could almost be genuinely resting.

 

“Treatments starting to work. It's nearly over, kid. Just got to hang in there a little while longer."

 

 


	3. The Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "you get too close, you make a big deal of this, and it will hurt you more when you have to say goodbye"

Three days shy of Kraglin’s sixteenth birthday, Peter has a night terror that follows the child into the waking world but wakes his mind before it wakes his body, leaving him awake but unable to move for twenty terrifying seconds of sleep induced hallucination. When his ability to scream returns, he is pretty sure that the walls shake with it, and he screams and rocks and balls his fists into his temples until two firm hands pull them away and he is held against someones chest.

 

“Just a dream. Just a dream. See, your safe.” Kraglin keeps up the by now well rehearsed litany of reassurance until Peter finally calms down enough to sag against him, yawning. “Feeling better now?"

 

The child nods, sniffs, and wipes at his eyes tiredly. “Everyone was dead, and...and I...”

 

“Shh, no one is...” Kraglin stops himself there, because this is the child who lost his Mom and homeworld barely a week ago, and Kraglin can’t even begin to imagine what that must feel like.

 

“What was your Mom like?” Peter says after a while, his voice just above a whisper.

 

Kraglin shrugs. “I don’t remember her.”

 

“I bet she was awesome like you are.”

 

Kraglin disagrees on both accounts, but he nods anyway for Peter’s sake. “What was yours like?”

 

“She liked music and dancing. We would have dancing competitions, and she always won.” Peter giggles as he remembers them. “She taught children how to sing and play instruments. That was before she got sick.” He yawns, and starts to fall asleep right there and then. “I’m glad I’ve got you as my friend now.”

 

Peter wakes up slightly when he realises that his hair feels wet. He sits up in the embrace. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“You’re crying.” Peter says, starting to cry again himself.

 

Kraglin shakes his head. “I’m just tired. It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s not your fault. Go back to sleep.”

 

Peter nods and does just that, wrapping his arms around the Xandarian and mumbling something incoherent. Kraglin sits there for who knows how many hours afterwards.

 

A friend. He and Peter were friends, like Yondu and Horuz, or Harris and Klo. He hugs the now sleeping child a bit closer, unable to describe the feeling of being able to help give him the security and protection he needs as he came to terms with the abrupt change to his world.

 

Then he remembers what Horuz said.

 

_"Quill's a good kid, I get it, but you mustn't get too attached. As soon as we get back to known space, we'll be delivering him to his Dad like we were hired to do. Now it's good you being friendly with him, and being a playmate. And I know that the Captain appreciates it. But you get too close, you make a big deal of this, and it will hurt you more when you have to say goodbye. And I don't want that for you, Kraglin. So, just be careful, okay Kid."_

 

His tears falling again, Kraglin tries to untangle himself from the sleeping Peter, but the child is stuck fast, arms wrapped around him tight and fists clutching at his sleeping shirt. Kraglin knows that this sense of security is what Peter needs right now, and a part of the Xandarian envies Peter that ability to accept it. When Kraglin had first joined the crew, it had taken him months to stop being wary of physical contact, after a life of only ever knowing other beings as a source of pain and upset. Once he had stopped being scared of the crew, and indeed found that being hugged by Nari, carried on Klo’s shoulders, or even just patted on the back by Yondu and Horuz was something that he liked (and more importantly, something freely on offer when the boy asked), it had sparked the period of Kraglin’s recovery during which Horuz was often heard referring to him as “The Limpet”.

 

“Now I’ve got my own little Limpet, huh.” The Xandarian whispers to his sleeping friend. “I’ll always have your back, Quill. I promise.”

 

* * *

 

“He tried to kill me.”

 

“He did what he had to do, Quill.”

 

“He KILLED me!” Peter screams, his eyes red with bloodshot. “He KILLED me and I ain’t done NOTHING! He was supposed to be my FRIEND. I HATE HIM!”

 

“Don’t you say that, boy.” Yondu shouts, shaking Peter hard by a hand on each of the boy’s shoulders, before pressing him into the chair. Peter flinches, and Yondu relaxes his grip. Although he doesn’t calm down.

 

“It was real for him!” He says, his teeth gritted. “And what he just did for you, his last bullet, his last chance to escape, and he gave it to you. He sacrificed himself so you could escape. And now he’s going to suffer his fear. For YOU. So don’t you DARE hate him, boy! Don’t you dare.”

 

Peter looks down. “But he killed me.”

 

“He SAVED you from something worse.”

 

“What’s worse than dying?”

 

“Hope you never have to find out, boy.” Yondu says, quietly. “You’re too young to understand, and Kraglin SHOULD be too young. But you trust me, right boy?”

 

Peter nods.

 

“Then believe this. Kraglin’s your friend, Quill. The best friend you’ve got on this ship. And he’s more than proven that today.” Yondu pats Quill’s shoulder, and then indicates his bunk with a nod. “Get some sleep. You’re far enough from the field here.”

 

“You’re not sending me back in?”

 

“Hell no, boy. Not again. You’ve done your bit.” Yondu gives Peter a shove towards the bed, and then turns to the door.

 

“I wish my Mom was here.” Peter mutters, curling up into a foetal position on the mattress.

 

“I know you do, boy.” Yondu nods stepping back into the room and this time resting a gentle hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I’ll send Nari to sit with you, okay.”

 

Peter nods again, and closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Kraglin is getting sick. He can feel it. His stomach feels full, but not in the satisfied way that a good meal makes it. It feels full of poison, and pain. He curls around it, and feels bile and vomit rise into his throat. He swallows, grimacing against the taste.

 

Illness was not tolerated among the Kree. Sick slaves were worthless slaves, and punished for their weakness before being cast aside. Kraglin was sick often, but he learned to work through it, to hide it. Even as he grew weaker and weaker, he could still work.

 

On Eclector, things had been different. The first time that Kraglin had gotten sick after joining the crew, Klo had set him up with a hammock, a fucking hammock of all things, on the bridge. The Xandarian had spent his illness being waited on hand and foot by whichever crew member was not occupied with duties at that moment.

 

He giggles as he remembers it. Yondu Udonta’s Ravagers. Even among other Ravager crews, Yondu’s had a reputation as the strongest, scariest, most bad ass space pirates in the known universe. But give them a poorly child to care for, and they were a pack of doting nurses. Horuz had even read him a history book about war heroes. Rael, Obfonteri, Annihilus. They had chosen Kraglin’s surname from it.

 

The teen had kept the book. He was going to read it to Peter one day, maybe the first time that the Terran got sick. Start a tradition of sorts, like handing down the toy car.

 

He stops giggling, and curls up tighter around his stomach.

 

Peter was safe, and the Xandarian tells himself that he isn’t afraid anymore. Peter is safe and that is all that matters.

 

Nothing else matters.

 

* * *

 

Asleep in his bunk, Peter knows that he is dreaming as soon as he starts. He just...knows. And he thinks that he can control the dream world.

 

He tries, wishing for his Mother to come through the door of his bedroom.

 

She does so, carrying a plate of toast. “I brought you some breakfast, Peter.” She says, smiling as she rests the plate on the bedside table and then turns to face him.

 

“Mom, can I go and visit my friend today?”

 

“Of course you can. You want your Grandpa to drive you.”

 

“No.” Peter shakes his head. “I can go by myself.”

 

And he’s suddenly surrounded by the black walls of the Kree ship.

 

“I can do this by myself.”

 

* * *

 

“Treatment’s finally working.” Horuz whispers, as he wipes at the teen’s brow. “But he’s had to fight hard. He...he might not have enough left.”

 

“He’ll beat it.” Yondu says. “He’s survived too much to let this be what kills him.”

 

The medical scanner beeps, and Horuz hits the side of the screen with his hand. “That doesn’t make sense.”

 

“What?”

 

“The scanner...it’s picking up Quill’s brain signature again. Like the Kid’s back in the dream.”

 

“He’s in his Bunk. Nari would have told me if he wasn’t.”

 

“Then how?” Horuz points to the screen. Sure enough, there is the Terran's brain signature, the same as when he had been sleeping in the room.

 

“Dreams.”

 

Horuz looks from Kraglin to Yondu. “What?”

 

“Volcun parasite builds a dream world.” Yondu smiles. “And Quill is daddy’s little boy.”

 

 


	4. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I have a plan"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Nearly a month since I updated anything. Sorry :-(
> 
> Hope this chapter isn't too much of a disappointment after the wait.

He hears banging, and it makes him flinch. It hurts, like he’s made of glass and every movement grinds his skin over his bones. But he can’t help it.

 

What experiment are they preparing?

 

He closes his eyes tightly, and shakes. He wants to go home. But he can’t.

 

That is why he is here.

 

* * *

 

Peter doesn’t wake as they carry him to the medical bay. In fact, he doesn’t even twitch as Yondu lays him down, and connects up the scanners.

 

“You said that Quill won’t have inherited any of his dad’s powers?”

 

“I said probably.” Yondu snaps back, knuckles pale as he grips the edge of the medical bed. “I ain’t exactly an expert in xeno science, Horuz, and even if I was, never been a Terran Nephilim hybrid before. We’re on new ground.”

 

“New ground that’s a ticking time bomb.” Horuz points to the readings on the scanner. “You told me what his Dad’s capable of. If Quill can do half that shit.”

 

“Then that bug is going down.”

 

“Well he better hurry.” Horuz says, his voice dropping.

 

* * *

 

He’s been fighting with the other boys again, and he knows that his Mom is going to be upset. But there is nothing that he can do about it now.

 

He sits alone in the reception. He’s not allowed in the room while the Doctors are in there. He gets in the way, Grandpa says. Peter thinks it’s a different reason. Peter thinks that Grandpa always looks at him funny, like he’s mad at him.

 

He shouldn’t be here. He’s in the way.

 

“Peter. You’re Momma wants to speak with you.”

 

He can hear his Grandpa calling to him, but he ignores him. He has to stay out of the way. That’s what Grandpa said. Then Grandpa takes the headphones, and leads Peter into the hospital room. It’s full of people. Everyone is there. Everyone is crying.

 

Beep. Beep. Beep beep.

 

And of course, the first thing that Mom notices is that Peter has been fighting.

 

His memory blurs. Mom gives him the present, but he can’t focus on it. On anything. Only the beeps. And why is Mom talking like she’s saying goodbye?

 

Why can’t he look at her?

 

“Take my hand.”

 

He’s can’t.

 

“Peter. Take my hand.”

 

He can’t.

 

She’s dies. And Grandpa takes him away. Keeps him out of the room. Because Peter is alone now.

 

“NOOOO!” He screams. Runs out of the hospital. He’s in a corridor. Dark. Walls seeming to move as if made of liquid.

 

“I’m not alone. I’M NOT ALONE.” He shouts at the ceiling. “I’m a Ravager. I’ve got Yondu, and Kraglin, and all the others. They want me. They’ll NEVER abandon me. They won’t die. They won’t leave. Not ever.”

 

Peter sinks to his knees, hands on the floor on front of him. “Kraglin’s going to die. Everyone is. Eventually.” He sniffs, sits up. “I can’t stop it.”

 

Peter’s hands are folded into his chest as he climbs to his feet and walks, his mind repeating the same mantra over and over. It is not real. It is not real. It is not real.

 

He can still save him.

 

Peter screams as a pipe cracks beside him, releasing steam in a hiss. The edges of the cloud hit his skin, and he recoils as the heat brushes him. “Ouch!”

 

Rubbing his arm, Peter kicks the pipe. It proves to be a less than ideal move. The pipe breaks completely, sending a torrent of steam over the boy’s head as he falls to the floor, grabbing the bit of pipe that has fallen to the ground and crawling away, along the floor. Pipe held like a baseball bat, he stands as soon as he is far enough away from the steam, and continues on. His heart his beating so hard in his chest that it hurts, and he finds each breath becoming more and more of a struggle. “Kraglin?”

 

Still no answer. Marching footsteps make themselves known, and Peter darts into an alcove just in time as the three rows of Sakaarans march by in an endless line, all armed. It is not real. It is not real.

 

Go away. Go away. Go away.

 

And suddenly the corridor is empty. The Sakaarans just...disappear.

 

It is a few long moments before Peter risks stepping out, looking up and down the corridor before creeping to the centre, pipe still held. He just wished, he wished...and then went away.

 

“I can control the dream.” He whispers, and then laughs. ”’CAUSE  I’M BETTER THAN YOU, you stupid BUG.”

 

Beep. Beep. Beeeeeep.

 

“Peter.” Grandpa is there. “Your Momma wants to speak with you.”

 

Peter walks past his Grandpa, and the spectre calls after him. He drops the pipe, holding his hands against his ears and humming at the top of his voice.

 

“Why you been fighting with the other boys again, baby?”

 

He keeps walking.

 

“Why didn’t you take my hand, baby?”

 

He shakes his head.

 

“I died. And your friend is going to die too, baby. Just like everyone around you is going to, eventually.”

 

He closes his eyes. If he can make the sakaarans go away, maybe he can make Kraglin appear.

 

“Everyone dies, baby. And then you’ll be alone in the universe”

 

“Don’t get too close.”

 

He opens his eyes.

 

The cage is barely big enough for a child to laid stretched out, and the occupant is curled up on his side in a ball.

 

Peter’s inside the other cage.

 

“Kraglin.” He shouts across the corridor at the opposite cage. “Kraglin, wake up.”

 

“What?” The teen stirs, uncurling as much as the cage allows him too, and squinting as he looks across the corridor. His eyes widen, and he snaps into a panic. “Quill. No. You can’t be...I…”

 

“It’s okay. I’m going to get us out. I know what to do now. I have a plan.”

 

“I...I can’t go back.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Kraglin flinches as the door into the room clicks, and starts to open. He closes his eyes, whispering as if to the floor. “Not Quill. Take me. Not Quill. Take me. Not Quill. Take me.”

 

The cage doors open, and the first Sakaaran drags the terrified Kraglin out into the corridor.

 

The second grabs Peter.

 

“No!” Peter kicks at the Sakaaran holding him, and tries to reach out for Kraglin, who in turn is reaching for him, but they are quickly dragged apart by their captors.

 

He couldn’t reach his friend’s hand. “No!”

 

Peter screams, and somehow, he can’t even remember it, but somehow he is free from the Sakaaran’s grip. He kicks the one holding Kraglin with all the strength that he can manage, and the Xandarian thuds to the floor as the amused soldier turns to face Peter, grabbing the boy by the throat and lifting him above the ground.

 

And all Peter can think is I want to go home.

 

“PUT HIM DOWN.” Kraglin jumps onto the creature's back like a thing possessed, kicking, scratching and biting. The Sakaaran screams as Kraglin rips the helmet away from him, grabbing at the mandible and pulling with all of his might. There is a sickening crack, and the jaw shatters, falling away in the Xandarian’s hand. The still screaming Sakaraan drops Peter and claws at the teen, who shifts his weight, sending them crashing to the ground.

 

“I.” Kraglin beats him in the head with the sharp mandible. “Said. Put. Him. Down.”

 

And Kraglin is on his hands and knees on a floor, a floor covered in a strange cloth substance. A small ball lays on the floor beside him, next to a bat like weapon and a chest of storage drawers. Beside this is a small table, and beside that is a bed. A proper, freestanding bed. Kraglin’s only ever seen them in pictures.

 

Peter is sat cross legged on the bed, wearing the clothes that he was wearing the day that Eclector abducted him...found him.

 

“Quill?” Kraglin whispers, looking down at his...hands. What is he wearing? His trousers are the same material as Quill’s, rough, blue and hard wearing. His top is a white t-shirt, and under this he is wearing a long sleeved, red shirt. “Is this…” He looks back up at the boy. “Is this your homeworld? But...how did we get here?”

 

“Told you I had a plan.” Peter says. “I’m going to show you Terra. And then you can show me Xandar.”

 

Kraglin stands, turning on the spot as he takes in the room. The pictures. Posters. The window. He walks towards the window, and finds himself looking out over a small agricultural facility. Bipedal creatures eat the grass in front of the building.

 

There’s a banging against the door, and Kraglin startles. But as soon as Peter looks at the door, the banging stops.

 

“I figured out how to control the dream.” Peter says. “I just wish, and it happens.”

 

“It really is a dream.”

 

“Now show me Xandar.” Peter says, excitedly. “Just close your eyes, and want it. It really is like you’re making a wish.”

 

Kraglin nods, and thinks of the fountain near the Broker’s shop. The walkways, the pale blue sky. On really hot days he cups his hands in the fountain, and splashes his face with it. Yondu always gives him a clip around the ear for doing it, which for some reason is what makes it fun.

 

He opens his eyes, but they are still in Peter’s room.

 

He shakes his head. “I can’t do it, Peter.” He gives the Terran a small smile. “Guess it’s a grand tour of your place instead.”

 

“Okay. Until we wake up. ” Peter says, taking his hand. “And nothing to be scared of on Terra. If it tries, I just wish it away like I did the Sakaarans. Nothing can hurt us here.”

 

Kraglin nods, finally feeling safe in the first time in what feels like forever.

 

 


	5. The Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You Promised."

“What has you smiling?” Horuz’s mutters.

“Planning.” Yondu’s gaze is fixed on the still Peter as he talks. “Picturing what I’m going to do to those Badoon bastards when I get my hands on them.” He turns from Peter to Kraglin. “They’re going to realise that they messed with the wrong boy.”

“Can I watch?”

“Watch?” Yondu chuckles. “You can fucking help. Quill too. I’ll teach him to calibrate that tripod of his for reptilian scum.” His expression darkens. “No one gets away with hurting my crew. Especially when it’s the younglings they pick on.” He indicates Kraglin with a nod.

Horuz shakes his head, smiling. “You did notice him turn sixteen the end of last year, right?”

“Gave him an M-Ship, didn’t I?” Yondu says, a little bit of anger in his tone. “Damn Kree stole enough of his childhood, Horuz. Stop being so eager to shorten what he’s got left.”

“Ain’t me doing that.” Horuz counters. “It’s time doing it. Look at him.” He points at the bottom of Kraglin’s trousers. “Pants are fighting with the boots. This growth spurt he’s having carries on, he’ll be as tall as you by the end of the year.”

“Least he’ll finally grow into that coat I gave him way back.” Yondu says, sitting back and crossing his arms as his gaze wanders back to Peter. “Readings?”

“Psychic field is barely registering. Readings suggest they’re still sharing the dreamscape, but it ain’t the bug keeping them there now.” Horuz looks from the screen to Yondu. “Quill’s doing that at eight years old. What’s he going to be like at eighteen? Adulthood?”

“Cross that bridge if we come to it.”

“If?”

Yondu rests a hand on Peter’s forehead. “Quill thinks his daddy’s as Terran as his mom, and we keep it that way. This is all the bug’s doing. We tell him that. And let these powers of his go dormant.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to try and teach him to control…”

“Control people's dreams? Insert ideas in their skull? I’ve heard of Nephilim walking entire tribes off of cliffs for fun.” Yondu shakes his head. “You want to give that power to a kid? A kid like Quill? He’s still got a long of anger about his daddy, and on top of that he’s going to have questions about Kraglin’s past when he wakes up. Much as I’d love to set a nephilim on the Kree, have him make them all aim at each other and shoot. But what happens when he runs out of enemy, and he’s still angry? You’ve heard of Thanos, I take it?”

“Thanos is a myth?”

“Trust me, Horuz. He’s as real as I am.” Yondu takes his hand away and stands, his back cracking audibly. Both men have lost track of the time spent sitting in the medbay, hours broken only by various crew members trooping in for update after update.

The silence of the room is broken only by Peter’s indecipherable, calm mutterings as he turns onto his side.

“He never finds out.” Yondu says.

Horuz raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, although it is clear that he is not happy.

“Go get some food.” The Centaurian continues. “I’ll holler of I need you back.”

Horuz nods, sparing a glance at each sleeping boy in turn, and patting Kraglin on the shoulder, before leaving. Now alone in the room, in a manner of speaking, Yondu allows the underlying emotions to show on his face.

It had been close. Too damn close. And on his watch too. He should have known better. Figured out that something was wrong the moment that the contact didn’t show, smelt the trap and got the boys out of there. Instead he just wrote it off as bad intel.

“Careless, Udonta.” He muttered to himself. “Fucking careless.”

Kraglin would hopefully be the easiest to help in the aftermath. The boy had come a long way in the four years since his rescue, when he had been little more than a seemingly thoughtless shell that hid his pain and was desperate to work and please the people around him, never speaking unless spoken to, and even THAT took some coaxing. It had been Horuz, of all people, who had finally broken through. He would sit with the boy each meal time and just talk, asking questions. And slowly, over time, the boy would start answering. And talking. And revealing elements of his past.

And then had come the lunchtime that Yondu suspected was burned into the memory of every member of the crew present at the time. The lunchtime when the twelve year old, seven weeks into joining the crew, had suddenly thrown his plate onto the floor and smashed it. Then another plate. Then another. And another. Screaming the whole time with Kree words that the translator had thought better of deciphering. Yondu had fully expected the child to struggle when Horuz had wrapped his arms around him, but instead the boy had collapsed against the Xandarian and sobbed so hard that it must have hurt him, scrawny as he was. And when the child had finally calmed down, all Horuz had done was point at the mess of crockery, shake his head, and say “Guess you and me are going plate shopping then, young man.”

And they did. Three days to Xandar, a day there, and then three days back on Horuz’s M-Ship. When the Xandarian duo had returned it was with so many plates that Yondu had wondered if their homeworld had any left. It was also with a Kraglin who, the very next day, had “borrowed” one of Yondu’s toys from his control console and started walking it along the edge of the navigation panel, chatting to himself as he did so. Playing for maybe the first time in his life.

And the next time the boy was upset, he didn’t hide it. Instead he walked up to Yondu and Horuz in the middle of the night shift, toy car in one hand and hammock trailing from the other like a toddler’s security blanket, and said that he had had a nightmare and could he sleep on the bridge the rest of the night please.

“Got a better idea, kid.” Horuz had said, leading the boy over to the weapons console and then sitting in the reclining chair there with the twelve year old in his lap, head rested against his shoulder. “Better?”

Kraglin hadn’t answered. He was already asleep.

“Thought you hated children?” Yondu had said, amusement evident in his voice.

“I do.” Horuz shrugged. “Just not this one.”

Yondu is brought out of his thoughts by Peter as the boy mutters again, struggling slightly in his sleep. Peter has changed so much in the six months since they had picked him up from Earth that he is almost a different child. Once the anxieties, grief and fear had subsided, he had proven to be a curious and excitable child, eager to learn and not afraid to try new things now that he wasn’t so afraid of punishments if he failed. Not that he often failed. His improved confidence had also improved his sure footedness, and a very capable child had resulted. Even Harris, who had an IQ that often raised the average intelligence of planets if he visited them, had admitted to feeling that the kid was running circles around him.

But Yondu is no fool. He often suspects that a lot of Peter’s new persona is an act, although it is probably fooling the boy himself as much as it is the crew. There are still the occasional flinches. The wide eyes if someone looks at him in a way that is anything other than clearly happy. And then there are the nightmares. Kraglin had said that they were getting better, but just last week the boy had woken up screaming so loud that the engineering crew swore that they could hear it over the water recycling sump. And explosions couldn’t be heard over the sump (Which was how they had nearly lost Nari once. She had been completely oblivious to the fire that had broken out in the neighbouring room).

Having his worst nightmares force fed to him in technicolour was not going to improve matters at all. “Guess I better set that cot up in my room, huh boy.” Yondu says, trying to sound jovial but not quite getting the tone right. “You’re getting stronger every day, but you’re still a youngling. Still fragile in there, ain’t yah. But that’s okay. We Ravagers, we look after our own when they’re hurting. You ain’t going to be facing it alone.”

And suddenly, Peter screams.

 

* * *

 

“What are THOSE?”

 

“Oh. Those are cows.” Peter says, shrugging as they lean on the fence looking out over his Grandather’s field. “They make milk and beef and stuff.”

 

“They’re amazing.” Kraglin says, quietly. “Do they bite?”

 

“I’ve never seen one bite.” Peter looks over just in time to see that Kraglin is climbing over the fence. “Kraglin. We’re not allowed in the field.”

 

The teen obligingly stops climbing, although he remains sitting on the fence as the cows wander over to investigate their new audience.

 

“My Grandpa was going to teach me how to milk them.” Peter says, quietly, while turning to look back at the house.

 

“Do you...do you miss your family?”

 

“Sometimes.” Peter shrugs, and reaches out to stroke one of the cows on her nose as she looks over the fence. “Being a Ravager is fun and all, but sometimes I wonder what Grandpa and the others are doing.” He looks up at Kraglin. “Do you think they miss me?”

 

“Of course they do.” Kraglin says. “I bet they think about you all the time.”

 

“Do you think that they think I’m dead?”

 

“They might do.” Kraglin jumps down from the fence so that he is standing beside the Terran.

 

Peter bites his bottom lip. “Everyone dies one day.”

 

Kraglin looks down at his feet, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

 

“Everyone will die and I’ll be alone.” He looks around the farm, noticing how empty it is for the first time. His Grandpa isn’t tending to the cows. His Grandma isn’t hanging the laundry on the line. His Mom isn’t coming back from the shops, always with a treat for Peter among the bags.

 

“That won’t happen. Ravagers are never alone.” Kraglin says. “Sure we can die, but there’s always new Ravagers to replace the old. So even if me or Yondu or Horuz or Klo or anyone dies, you’ll still have other Ravagers. You ain’t never going to be alone ever again.”

 

“Promise?”

 

Kraglin doesn’t answer, and he stops looking at Peter.

 

“Kraglin?”

 

And then he collapses.

 

“KRAGLIN!” The child screams, falling to his knees beside his fallen friend and shaking him. Kraglin lied still, blue blood trickling out of his nose and the corner of his mouth. “NO! NOOOOOO!” He shakes his further, pounds on his chest, screams into his ear.

 

And suddenly, the teen is gone, and Peter falls forward as his hands fall the rest of the way to the grass. And he is alone in the dream.

 

“NO. YOU PROMISED!”

 

Alone.

 

 


	6. The Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait between chapters.

“Right. Here is where the tour ends.” Horuz stands aside so that the boys can enter their new room. “Looks like D’Arn and Raxen have left it tidy for you.”

 

“Are you sure they won’t mind swapping rooms with me.” Kraglin asks for maybe the thirteenth time as he steps into the double sleeper. “I mean, my room only has the single bunk.”

 

The shell shocked Terran is standing at the Xandarian's side. He looks from one bunk to the other with wide eyes, but otherwise draws no attention to himself.

 

“THIS is your room now.” Horuz says as Yondu joins him at the door. “As for D’Arn and Raxen, well those boys share a bunk most nights, anyway. They’ll manage with the single room.”

 

Kraglin nods, and looks down at his new friend. “Which bunk do you want, Quill?”

 

The boy shrugs, and points at the bunk facing the door.

 

“We’ll be leaving you to get settled then.” Yondu says, before kneeling down in front of the Terran. “We didn’t get properly introduced before. I’m the Captain, and this here gentleman is my second in command, and that means we get respect. You give us that respect, and you’ll get it in return. You cross us, and there will be consequences. Am I being understood, boy?”

 

The Terran nods. “I ain’t gonna cause trouble, Captain.”

 

“Good.” Yondu says, looking the kid up and down. He notes the bruise around his eyes, the broken skin on his knuckles. The boy is not afraid to fight when he needs to, but he also knows that sometimes you have to play meek to survive. Good kid. Yondu would have been lying if he had said that he had not been concerned about dragging someone into space whose culture had never gone beyond their own satellite. And a child none the less. Space isn’t for the faint hearted, but something tells him that Quill has the strength needed to survive it, if combined with a few more years of experience.

 

The Centuarian stands, nodding towards the bunk that the Terran indicated earlier. “Get yourself rested. Been a big day.”

 

Horuz holds up the backpack that was taken from the boy earlier. “We need to keep this for a bit. Make sure you’re not carrying anything that can damage our little ship here.”

 

The Terran nods, sniffling as he climbs onto the bunk, drawing his knees to his chest as he looks down at the floor.

 

“Kraglin.” Yondu says, turning to the teenager standing next to the other bunk. Indicating the door, he leads the teen into the corridor outside. Horuz follows them, and then carries on towards the bridge, Peter’s backpack still in his hands.

 

“We’ll give that back to him later.” Yondu says. “Going to be months before we’re back in normal space, and that boys going to need looking after.

 

“Big task I’m giving you. Your job’s to help me make sure that kid has any questions he asks answered, gets food when he’s hungry, gets steered away from danger when he wanders, and above all…” He pats the boy’s shoulder. “Has a friendly face around when he’s upset. ‘Cause he’s going to be upset, Krags. We just dragged him into a whole new world, and he’s watched his mother die today on top of that. I'll do my bit, but for the bulk I will be relying on you to be there for him. Can you do that for me, Krags? Help me to look after the kid till we get him to his new home?”

 

Kraglin breaks eye contact, and Yondu thinks that he can see the cogs in the boy’s brain moving behind his eyes as he thinks it over. Finally, he nods. “I wont let you down, Captain.”

 

“I know you wont, that’s why I’m giving you the task.” Yondu smiles. “You do this well, and there will be good things that come from it for you. I’ll be taking notes, and so will Horuz. Now go get some sleep. Left some of Harris's old clothes in one of the boxes, they should fit Quill.”

 

Kraglin nods. "Captain? The notes you're taking. What are you planning?”

 

Yondu winks and walks away. "You come find me if you need a hand."

 

* * *

 

Peter sits up so fast that it makes his head spin, sending black spots into his vision. He takes a deep breath, casting desperate eyes around the room. The quarters. Yondu’s quarters. The cot creaks beneath him, and Peter’s hands clutch at the edges, pale knuckles twitching with tension as he slowly calms down.

 

“Yondu?” Peter is alone in the room. “Kraglin?”

 

Peter grabs the blanket from his cot and wraps it around himself, an extra layer of protection against the chill of the ship as he slowly sneaks out of Yondu’s quarters and into the corridor. The ship is in night mode, the lighting dim all around him as he slowly makes his way across the ship. It feels like an age before he sees the medical bay, the lights switched off inside.   
  


This room is empty as well.

 

“No.” Peter jumps up to the light switch, just tapping it with his fingers. He squints as the bright lights hit his eyes, the empty, sterile room slowly coming into focus. He can smell disinfectant, just covering up the stink of vomit and blood.

 

Of death.

 

“No.” Peter runs out of the room, the blanket falling to his feet as he does so, leaving Peter with only his sleep wear to ward of the cold of the ship. He doesn’t even feel it as he runs, this time darting through the various lifts and empty corridors until he is outside his and Kraglin’s quarters. The door opens to another empty room. Both bunks are cold, unslept in.

 

Kraglin’s bunk has been packed away. His personal belongings are gone.

 

Peter stumbles backwards from the empty bunk, screaming as he hits the table in the middle of the room and falls over it, hitting the floor hard. He pulls himself up, rubbing at the developing bruise on his jaw as he stumbles out of the room, only to slide down the wall on the other side.

 

The bridge. He had to get to the bridge. There might be...maybe…

 

“WHAT’S HAPPENING!” Yondu shouting.

 

And Peter is in the medical bay. He can hear beeping. An alarm of some kind.

 

"He's fading."

 

“You said the fucking bug was dying.”

 

“It’s dead!” Horuz shouts back. “This is the...”

 

“The treatment I gave him.”

 

Peter opens his eyes, turning onto his side and looking out over at the opposite bed. Kraglin’s skin is tinted blue, and each breath sounds forced, dragged over liquid.

 

“I’ve seen this toxin used before. They survived.”

 

“Damn toxin has been throttling him.” Horuz says quietly. “His immune system’s never had much fight, and we’ve taken out what he had left.”

 

“NOOO!”

 

Both men turn to face Peter as he scurries off of his bed, rushing over and clutching the edge of Kraglin’s bed with a grip so tight that his knuckles turn white. He closes his eyes, muttering in a voice so quiet that neither Yondu nor Horuz can hear him.

 

“What are you doing, boy?” Yondu says after a moment.

 

Peter shakes his head and opens his eyes, looking around. “Why can’t I change the dream?”

 

“Because you’re awake.” Horuz says, sternly. “Step back, kid. You’re in the way.”

 

“Horuz.” Yondu shouts, although he also places a firm hand on each of the boy’s shoulders, pulling him away from the bed.

 

“Is he dying?”

 

Yondu doesn’t answer.

 

Shaking his head, Peter steps back further from the bed. Before either Yondu or Horuz can stop him, he bolts for the door.

 

“Yondu!” Horuz calls after the Captain, but Yondu doesn’t stop from his chase of the Terran.

 

* * *

 

“QUILL!” The Centaurian shouts angrily as he grabs the running child, pinning him against the wall. “Told you to stop, dammit boy.”

 

“Let go of me!” Peter says, gripping at Yondu’s wrists. Nodding, the Captain lets go, but he doesn’t step back.

 

“I ain't a Ravager anymore. You can’t order me around.”

 

“Is that so.”

 

“I don’t WANT friends.” Peter spits. “I don’t WANT a family, or a crew, or anything. It just means you have people to lose. People that can die and hurt you. And I don’t care what Kraglin says, even if there are more Ravagers, you still have to lose the ones that die. And it hurts. It hurts every time. And I don’t want to hurt like that anymore, so I ain’t going to let it happen. If I don’t have any family or friends, then none of my family and friends can die and leave me. So go away and leave me alone.”

 

“So you’re just going to walk away.” Yondu says. “Everything he has done for you the last six months, and you’re just going to walk away from him now. You’re better than that, Quill. Your mother raised you better than that.”

 

“I couldn’t save them, though.” Peter says. “Mom. Kraglin. I couldn’t...I tried. I went into the nightmares just like you told me, and I found him, but I couldn’t save him. He’s dying because of ME!”

 

Yondu lets the air out through his teeth, and kneels down. “You did fine, Quill. You did the best you could, and it’s thanks to you that he survived as long as he did. Thanks to you he ain’t going to die scared and alone, trapped in a nightmare. But he needs you there one more time. And it will hurt, it’s going to hurt me too. It will hurt Horuz. But he deserves to have us there.”

 

Peter starts to shake his head, but Yondu wraps his hands around each of the boy’s ears, stopping the movement.

 

“I thought the same as you once, boy. I lost my whole family, same as you. Spent a year as a prisoner. And when I escaped, I told myself that I didn’t need people. Only lead to pain. So I went it alone. And do you know what it got me.”

 

Peter shakes his head against Yondu’s grip.

 

“Nothing. You don’t feel pain, because you don’t feel anything. And that includes good things. All those good  memories you have of your Mom. Of being on this ship. You really want to rob yourself of making more of those?”

 

Peter bites on his bottom lip, breaking eye contact to peer down the corridor towards the medical bay. “No.”

 


	7. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t care what Yondu says. I don’t want you to just be memories. I want you to be THERE."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that a) this chapter took so long and b) not much actually happens.

The space station is your typical seedy collection of buckets and bolts, with steam escaping through cracks in the heating pipes, and water leaking into the beer. It is outside all jurisdictions, and makes Knowhere look like the headquarters of the Nova Corps in terms of safety.

 

It has no wealth or strategic value. Quite what the Kree see in the place was a mystery that Yondu will never figure out.

 

But attack it they have.

 

Yondu’s whistle breaks over the commotion, halving the attacking Sakaarans in numbers in one quick flight before he grabs the arrow in mid air and falls back, resorting to a pistol while he gets his breath back in the smoke filled atmosphere.

 

“Horuz!” He shouts into his communicator. “Where are our people?”

  
“Klo and Nari are defending the M-Ship.” His First Mate shouts back through the static. “Harris and Kraglin are unaccounted for.”

 

“Hell.” Yondu shouts through gritted teeth. “Find those kids, Horuz.”

 

“Kraglin is in the atrium. Harris I don’t...” Another burst of static. “Captain. I’ve got Harris. He’s with me.”

 

“Get him to the ship.”

 

“What about…”

 

“Get Harris to the ship. I’ll find Kraglin.” Yondu shuts off the communicator and sends the arrow out again, taking care of the other half of the attacking Sakaarans before grabbing the arrow and marching off in the direction of the atrium. Explosions and screams echo down the corridor. Alarms deafen him. And he can barely see in the smoke. The atrium is empty, anyone with sense having run into the corridors and rooms where there are hiding places or dependable positions. Yondu knows he is exposed as he steps into the open area, scanning the chamber with his eyes.

 

The alarm mercifully shuts down, leaving Yondu feeling slightly light headed. He risks shouting the Xandarian teen’s name.

 

Another explosion, and this time he knows the voice that is screaming.

 

He runs, a whistle sending the arrow ahead of him. The side room is a clothing shop, judging by the fabric strewn across the floor. Fabric covered in blood. Blue blood. Dark. It stinks in the room.

 

The Kree is laid on his back in a spread eagle position, blue blood bubbling from the jagged slit in his throat. What is maybe the same piece of glass that made the cut is now sticking out of his chest.

 

Returning the arrow to its sheath, Yondu’s gaze moves to the corner of the room.

 

The boy’s eyes are wide as saucers as they fix on the Kree, his body completely still except for his hands, which shake. He is covered in blue blood, and Yondu immediately kneels in front of him, grabbing him with a hand on each shoulder and giving him a hard enough shake to bring the boy’s attention to him.

 

Their eyes meet, and Yondu nods. “Any of this blood yours, Kraglin.”

 

No answer. The teen’s gaze goes back to the Kree.

 

“KRAGLIN!” Another shake, and the boy’s breathing hitches as his gaze returns to Yondu. “Is any of this blood yours, boy?”

 

Kraglin breaks eye contact, and looks down. The Captain follows his gaze to see the large cut across the teen’s hand, no doubt from holding the glass. The glass he has just used to make his first kill.

 

Yondu gives him another shake, bringing Kraglin's focus back to the Captain.

 

Reaching into his coat, the Centaurian takes out his pistol, handing it to the boy. “You stay behind me. You don’t make a sound, and you follow any order without question. Watch my back, and I watch yours. We get each other back to the ship. You understand me?”

 

No answer.

 

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” Yondu shakes him again. “Stay FOCUSSED. We’re Ravagers. We got a MISSION to do. We ain’t got time to be scared.”

 

Kraglin clutches the pistol, flinching as the cut on his hand makes contact with the grip, and nods.

 

“Good boy.” Yondu pats his shoulder, and then stands. “Stay behind me.” He takes the boy’s arm, pulling him past the fallen Kree and out into the atrium.

 

The corridor is the longest walk of Yondu’s life. More smoke. Distant explosions and screams. The arrow in his hand is hot from frequent use, and burns against his skin as he clutches it.

 

One of the pipes bursts next to them, and Yondu finds his attention turning to it for a second. Just a second.

 

“Captain.”

 

The transformation is immediate. The scared, traumatised fourteen year old is suddenly a soldier, moving to stand between his Captain and the enemy, pistol in hand and three perfect shots on three Sakaarans. They fall, dead before they’ve even hit the ground. Three more kills.

 

“Well done.” Yondu patts the teen’s shoulder, and then kept his hand there, guiding him on. “Well done. Come on. We’re nearly home, boy.”

 

And later, Yondu tells Horuz that he might have found the next Captain of the Eclector.

 

* * *

 

_I’m not in love._

_So don’t forget it._

_It’s just a silly phase I’m going through._

Peter sits on a storage crate in the hangar bay, walkman rested in his lap. The same song. The same sense of cold dread clawing at his stomach. The sense of deja vu is so strong that Peter fully expects his Grandfather steps out of the medical bay.

 

“Quill?”

 

He turns the volume up, but before he can get lost in the music the headphones are pulled off his head, causing him to flinch.

 

“Come on, Boy. He’s asking to see you.” Yondu waits, but when Peter doesn’t follow he puts the walkman on the box beside him, and picks the boy up. “Okay to be scared, Boy. But Ravagers face their fears.”

 

“It’s going to hurt.”

 

Yondu nods. “He’s hurting more, right now. He’s going to need a friend.”

 

Peter takes a breath, and lets Yondu carry him into the room. They pass Horuz as he leaves, the Xandarian stopping to look at Peter with an expression that the child can’t read, before slipping out. Peter watches him go, and then turns to look back at the bed. Kraglin is laid curled up on his side, his knees drawn into his chest.

 

Yondu puts Peter down beside the bed, then leaves the room himself, letting the two friends have their privacy.

 

“Come over here, Quill.” Kraglin mutters. “Wanted to...to thank you, for what you did back there.” Kraglin points at his own head, then starts coughing. Peter reaches for the bucket resting next to the bed, but Kraglin shakes his head, raising a hand to stop the boy while he calms down. Spent, he collapses back on the bed and, instinctively, Peter pulls the blanket up so that it is covering Kraglin up to his chin.

 

The Xandarian gives him a small smile, and opens his eyes. “You’re a proper Ravager Quill. Weren’t scared a bit in that nightmare. Even managed to control it. Half my age but already way better than I’ll ever be.”

 

“That ain’t…”

 

Kraglin silences him. “I’m glad the Captain has you now. You’re a good kid. The sort he deserves. He might even make you Captain one day.”

 

“But I don’t want to be the Captain.” Peter says, quietly. “And I don’t want you to die, neither. You’re my friend. You’re the only best friend I’ve ever had.”

 

“Likewise.” Kraglin says, his eyes slipping closed.

 

“NO!” Peter screams, shaking the Xandarian’s arm harshly. “You got to stay awake, otherwise...that’s what my Mom did. She closed her eyes. You have to…” Peter starts to sob. “Who's going to teach me how to fight. Or show me around on Xandar. And I want to teach you about Earth, too. And you said you wanted to learn about the music on my walkman. I can teach you all that. And you said when I was older, we’d go on missions together. We ain’t done ANY of that stuff yet. You can’t...”

 

He shakes the Xandarian again. “I don’t care what Yondu says. I don’t want you to just be memories. I want you to be THERE. All the time. And do all those things we said we were going to do. You have to be OKAY.”

 

Kraglin sniffs, and his hand slips out from under the blanket, taking Peter’s hand in his own. “I’m trying Quill.”

 

“Try harder.” Peter says harshly.

 

Kraglin chuckles at that, and curls up a bit tighter. He tries to move his hand back in under the blanket, but he can’t. Peter is holding it in a vice grip.

 

“I couldn’t do this for Mom. I wasn’t a Ravager then. But I am now. And that means I’m strong enough now.” Peter looks at their clasped hands. “And I might not be able to control the real world like I could the dream, but I can wish. I can wish really hard. And I can hold on and not let go. And that’s what I’m going to do. And it’s what you are going to do too. Because if I AM going to be the Captain of Eclector like Yondu one day, then you’re going to be my Horuz.”

 

Kraglin’s eyes open to cracks. “YOUR Horuz.”

 

The Terran nodds.

 

Kraglin slowly nods. “I'd like that.”

 

“Don’t die then.” Peter says, as if it is simple.

 

And despite everything, they both laugh.

 

 


	8. The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A good Captain looks after his crew. He said I’m going to be a really good Captain one day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Nearly a month without an update. I'm really sorry for being so slow with this one. It wasn't even writers block. It was more a case of having TOO MANY directions that I wanted to go, and then everything I wrote turned out crap. Anyhow...onwards with just 1 of the 700 odd rewrites of this chapter that I've done, and I will try my best to not leave it a month before the next update :-( 
> 
> Oh and thank you everyone for your lovely comments and tumblr messages. I know I've not been very good at replying to people, but they have been appreciated.

Peter stands with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the Xandarian sat cross legged on the other side of the bars. Scarro, in turn, stares back. His face is expressionless.

“I want to know why you did it.” He says, and Kraglin can’t help but grin. The kid is trying to be tough, and damn he’s pulling it off, even if he is trembling slightly. “Well? Why did you try and kidnap me? I ain’t never done anything you hurt you.”

“It wasn’t anything personal, kid.” Scarro says back. “Just that you’re worth a lot of money to some people.”

“Like who?”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere, Quill.” Kraglin grabs Peter’s shoulder. “Come on. Captain’s sentenced him to The Wall.” Kraglin throws Scarro a grin. “Good riddance.”

“You should be thanking me, Kraglin.”

“Thanking you?” The younger Xandarian scoffs, and his grip on Peter’s shoulder tightens, causing the child the flinch slightly. “You tried to kidnap my friend. And you nearly destroyed this ship.”

“Your friend.” Scarro stands, eyes returning to Peter. “Got the crew wrapped round that pathetic little finger of yours, haven’t you. And you…” He looks at Kraglin. “Can’t even see it. Captain’s been putting up with you for years because you were all he had, but NOW. Finally got the precious Ravager boy he’s always wanted, that you were too useless to be.”

“Shut up.” Peter screams, turning to the teen. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just trying to rattle you.” The boy grabs the bars, his teeth bared. “He’s just a bully.”

“We should go.” Kraglin says, pulling Peter back and turning him with a hand on each shoulder towards the door.

“Yondu doesn’t need you anymore.” Scarro laughs as he talks. “Not now he’s got his precious little Quill. Your days are numbered, Kraglin.” Whatever else the Xandarian had to say was cut off by Kraglin forcing the door to the brig closed.

“Just ignore him.” Peter says as soon as they are in the corridor.

“I am.” Kraglin says, giving the teen a half smile.

“We should get back to Yondu.” Peter says.

“Quill.” Kraglin looks over his shoulder, and then back at the child. “Look, Peter. Don’t go telling the Captain or anyone about what Scarro said. Like you said, he’s just trying to rattle us.”

“Yeah. ‘Cause we kicked his ass.”

“You and that tripod of yours.”

 

* * *

 

“Okay.” Peter is sat cross legged on the medical bed, a datapad held in front of him. “It needs to be made out of something powerful. Like indestructible. Like that vibra...vibra....you know, that stuff that Captain America’s shield is made out of.”

“Who?”

“Sorry.” Peter shrugs. “Forgot that you’re an alien.”

“I’M an alien?” Kraglin chuckles tiredly, shaking his head. He curls up a bit tighter on his side, one arm curling round to rest under his head. “Okay, so something tough. Can’t be too heavy though. You want people to be able to walk while wearing it.”

“Space.” Peter shouts, adding the details to the pad. “It should have air tanks so that they can breath in space. And the eyes should let you see in the dark. Because space is dark.”

“This is going to be some mask.”

“And it’s going to save lots of lives, if all the Ravagers wear them in a fight. Do you want one?”

Kraglin’s eyes close.

“Hey.” Peter says, gently hitting his shoulder. “I said do you want one?” His hand moves up to tap his friend’s forehead, then rests there. “You’re feeling warmer than before. I better get Yondu?” He started to move off the bed, but stopped when Kraglin grabbed his arm in a surprisingly strong grip.

“Don’t bother the Captain, I just need some more sleep.”

“You’ve slept for hours.”

“Sorry.” Kraglin mumbled, letting go of Peter’s arm and giving the arm a quick pat. “Just...work on the design some more. I’ll be awake again soon.”

“Kraglin, are you sure you’re okay.” Peter puts the datapad down and crawls down to the end of the bed, where he can make another obsessive check of the medical readout.

“Peter, I’m fine.” Kraglin smiles as he closes his eyes. “I’m not going to die in my sleep. Promise. Work on the design some more. I want to see how it looks when it’s done.”

Peter nods, although his expression remains unsure as he watches his friend slip into sleep. Crawling back up to the middle of the bed, he reaches out and touches Kraglin’s forehead again, then climbs back down to the floor. Crossing the medical bay, he takes a washcloth from the basin, and brings it back, climbing back up onto the bed and resting the cloth over the Xandarian’s forehead. Kraglin squints slightly, but doesn’t wake up.

Picking up the datapad again, Peter looks down at the design.

“Red eyes.” He whispers. “It should have red eyes.”

“What’s this about red eyes?” Peter flinches, turning to face the Captain who has as good as materialised next to the bed.

“Kraglin and me are making an armoured mask, to help keep Ravagers safe next time they go on a dangerous missions.” Peter smiles as he holds up the datapad. “Kraglin said that a good Captain looks after his crew. He said I’m going to be a really good Captain one day.”

Yondu gives the terran a half smile as he crosses his arms. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” Peter puts the datapad on the bed beside him, and turns back to the Captain. “And Kraglin’s going to be my First Mate, like Horuz.”

Yondu’s smile widens, and he lowers his voice. “He tell you anything else about being a Captain?”

Peter curls up slightly, hugging himself. “That Captain’s have to make difficult decisions sometimes. Like when you send people to The Wall...or when I died in the dream.” Peter looks down at the floor. “I don’t think I’d be very good at that bit, but he said that’s just because I’m young. And I’ll be older one day.”

“Why are you getting Captain lessons all of the sudden?”

Peter shrugs. “Kraglin thinks that’s what you’re going to make me one day.” He lowers his voice to a stage whisper. “But I think you should make him Captain. Because he knows everything already.”

“Oh I’ll be having a talk with Kraglin about his future, soon as he’s better.” Yondu nods, his expression going stern as he places a hand on top of the child’s head. “Come on, boy. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“What about…”

“Horuz is going to sit with him, soon as he’s finished on the bridge.” Yondu wraps his hand around the boy’s shoulder, half pushing him along the corridor. Wriggling out of the hold, Peter turns round so that he is walking backwards.

“He really is getting better? You’re not lying.”

“You know the rules, boy.” Yondu chuckles. “Ain’t no lies between Ravagers. Not the important stuff anyway.” Yondu turns the boy back round, giving him another push forward.

Peter turns back round. “Did you check the readouts before we left?”

“He’s fine, Quill.”

The rest of the walk to the canteen is silent until they reached the room itself, which is a bustle of activity centred around the middle table, where Nari and Harris are sat. There is a scanner on the table in front of them, and the readings from it seem to be the focus of activity.

“What’s this?” Yondu says loudly as they enter the canteen.

Every single Ravager looks up at the same time, holding the expression of a child that has just been caught stealing cookies. “Captain Yondu, Sir.” Harris says, before looking from the Centaurian to the terran. “And Quill.”

“Quill.” Nari smiles as she stands, looking at the crew over her shoulder, then picking up the scanner. “We’ve all put something together for you.”

“What is it?” Peter asks, looking from the Rainer to Yondu as he takes the scanner.

“It’s tied into the internal sensors.” Nari says. “You can see the heart rate and vitals of every single member of the crew, just have to click on their names. Means you can make sure everyone is okay when you’re worried.”

“These are yours.” Peter says, showing Nari her heartbeat on the sensor.

“And how much power is being drawn to run that?” Yondu asks, his arms crossed.

“Um…It was Harris’s idea.”

“Traitor.” The Luphomoid mutters.

“Thank you?” Peter says, throwing the Ravagers a cherub like smile before looking straight back down at the scanner. He cycles through the settings until the scanner is showing Kraglin’s vitals, and watches the steady heartbeat. Yondu, an expression that is somewhere between amused and exasperated, leads him to the table and then goes to get food for them both.

 

* * *

 

 

As Peter climbs into his bunk, he keeps the scanner with him, watching his friend’s heartbeat as his eyes slowly close.

And then open again as the scanner starts to beep.

Kraglin’s heart rate has just shot up. He’s terrified.

 

 


	9. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excuses excuses. I got a new job at the end of the year which I am really enjoying, but I also lost my writing muse. I just never WANTED to write, even though I wanted to finish my projects. One month became two and suddenly FOUR! And then when I DID finally get myself to write the chapter I was afraid to upload it, because I feel it isn't good enough to be worth the four month wait. So this has been sitting on my hard drive for over a week :-(
> 
> Sorry for the long wait.

“Kraglin, wake up.” Horuz shakes the younger Xandarian, then cries out as Kraglin bolts into a sitting position, close to hyperventilating.

“You’re _DREAMING_ again, kid. Snap out of it.” Horuz shouts, grabbing Kraglin’s arm.

It takes a moment, but finally the teen calms down.

“There you go.” Horuz says, smiling. “You’re on the Eclector.”

Kraglin lets out a long breath, and nods. “Th...thanks.”

“That’s why I’m here.” Horuz says, letting go of his arm. “Want to talk?”

Kraglin shakes his head. “It was just a stupid parasite, Horuz. And it’s dead now. And I’m getting better. So nothing to talk about.”

Horuz crosses his arms. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop pretending you ain’t scared.” Uncrossing his arms, Horuz jabs a finger in the boy’s chest. “You were screaming kid. Something was scaring you in there, and dream or not we are going to talk about it”

Kraglin laughs quietly. “Ravager’s ain’t got time to be scared?”

“That’s shit talk.” Horuz says, pulling himself up on the bed so that he is sat beside the teen. “I know that Quill’s been talking Yondu’s ear off about all the crap he saw in that dream. Seems to be helping him.” Horuz gives the teen a half smile. “Ain’t nothing wrong with being rattled by this. Any sane person would be.”

“Talking won’t fix it.” Kraglin says, quietly.

“Quill said you were on a Kree ship.”

The teen shrugs.

“I’m not letting you hide from this, Krags.”

“Hide WHAT!” Kraglin screams, falling to the ground and grabbing Horuz by the front of his coat. “That I was their prisoner. That I was a THING. And kids out there still _are_! All the time! RIGHT NOW.”

“KRAGLIN!” 

“Don’t you see, Horuz. What I saw, what that bug showed me, they weren’t just nightmares. They were realities. They were the real world for hundreds of people. Children. Kids Quill’s age and younger, and that’s the only life they’ve ever known. And when they have nightmares no one wakes _them_ up. No one CAN wake them up. They are LIVING the nightmare. They have NO hope. Because no one is coming to rescue them." He grabs at his hair. "But I got rescued. Why was I rescued and not them? I don’t deserve it. I’m _NOTHING_!.”

“Kraglin…”

“The bug was showing me the life that I SHOULD be living” The teen says, stepping backwards and looking away. “There. We talked. And it ain’t fixed, is it.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, Horuz facing Kraglin as he in turn faced the wall of the medical bay.

“Want to explain what the HELL that was about, young man.”

“I…” Kraglin shakes his head, eyes shut.

Kraglin flinches as he feels Horuz grab his arm, dragging him nearer and then lifting him up to sit on the bed, with Horuz now stood in front of him.

“Why did you just say all that crap?”

“Because it’s true.” Kraglin says. “Why did Yondu rescue ME and not someone else?.”

“Why should he have rescued someone else and not you?”

“What if there was another kid like Quill.” Kraglin looks Horuz in the eye. “Quill’s better than me at so many things. And he’s smarter. Captain don’t need me anymore. He should just kick me off the ship and be done with it.”

“Hey.” Horuz places a hand on each of the teen’s shoulders. “That’s the fever talking. You know the Captain better than that. Why would you EVEN think that? Harris is smarter than all of us. You think Yondu should kick ALL of us off the ship.”

Kraglin shrugs.

“Who's been filling your head with this?”

“It’s something Scarro said.”

“SCARRO!” Horuz shakes his head. “What were you doing listening to ANYTHING that bastard had to say.”

“It’s not just been that though.”

Horuz sighs, and raises his hands up so that they are wrapped around the teen’s ears, a mirror of the gesture Yondu often uses. “Hey. You should NOT have been living that excuse for a life that the Kree were giving you. You deserved to be rescued.”

“And none of the others do?” He whispers.

Horuz shakes his head, moving his hands return to the boy's shoulders.

“Captain’s got power, Kraglin, but he ain’t all powerful. He wants to change the galaxy, trust me. But he can’t. All he can do is change the galaxy for the handful of people that he CAN help.”

Kraglin looks down, nodding.

Horuz sighed. “Going to tell you something. Yondu didn’t want you knowing till you were older, but you need to hear it now.” Horuz uses one hand to gently tilt Kraglin’s chin up, so they are eye to eye. 

Horuz smiles. “Do you think Yondu’s a good Captain.”

Kraglin immediately nods.

“What makes him a good Captain?”

“He’s brave. He cares about the crew, puts them above all else. But he ain't afraid to be harsh when they need it, either.” Kraglin smiles. “And he’s intelligent. He can plan things, even off the cuff. And he doesn’t like people knowing it, but he’s got a good person as well. He pretends not to be, but I think he always tries to do the right thing.”

Horuz nodded, giving Kraglin a nod of approval. “Who else do you know who's like that?”

“You.”

“And?”

Kraglin looks away. “Quill.”

Horuz gives him a tired sigh. “And…”

When Kraglin doesn’t answer, Horuz gently tightens his grip, bringing his gaze back to front and centre before moving his hand down to jab at Kraglin’s chest.

“Been Yondu's plan since you were fourteen.”

“What...what has?”

“You taking over for me as First Mate.”

“When...but…” Kraglin stands, stumbling slightly. “But I...I’m just…”

“Yondu’s been waiting. Wanted you to be older. But this shit with the Vulcon’s shown him that you’re ready now. You had to make some tough decisions back there, but you made them. Protected your crew and put them first.”

Kraglin steps back, biting his bottom lip. “But Quill…”

“Quill’s a good kid, Kraglin. But he ain’t you. And you’re what Yondu’s been looking for.” 

He reaches out, gently stopping Kraglin from shaking his head. “Act surprised when the Captain tells you, okay.”

Kraglin swallows again.

“And we’ll have no more talk like just now.” Horuz says. “You can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but you deserve the life you’ve got Kid. Don’t ever feel that you don’t.” Horuz sighs, and then looks at the door, his voice raised. “And you are a constant pain the in ass.”

Peter peeks around the door, his scanner still held in his hands. “Kraglin’s heart beat was up. I thought he might need my help.”

“What’s that?” Kraglin says quietly, looking at the device.

Horuz chuckles. “Scanner is reading out your vitals.”

“Scary.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Peter smiles. “And you said yourself, a good Captain looks after his crew.”

“I didn’t mean start spying on them.” Kraglin laughs. “What’s next, Quill, cameras in the corridor?”

The terran looks at Horuz. “Can we do that?”

The teen shakes his head. “You’re weird.”

“That’s why I’m friend’s with you.” Peter says, laughing as he dodges the fake punch that Kraglin throws at him.

“Bed, young man.” Horuz says, reaching for the Terran.

“Five more minutes.”

“He’s fine, Horuz.” Kraglin says, giving the other Xandarian a small smile. “Let him stay for a bit.”

Horuz is clearly reluctant, but he nods and quietly leaves the room. 

“When Yondu makes you Captain, can I be your Horuz”

“You shouldn’t listen to other people’s conversations.” Kraglin says, taking the scanner from Quill. “And this _is_ kinds scary.”

“It helps.” Peter says, taking the scanner back. “But I’ll switch it off if you want me too.”

“No...it’s okay. I get it.”

“I’m glad your getting better.” Peter says, smiling. “I thought...when you were really sick. I thought you were going to die. Like Mom.”

“Bad timing huh, considering what the dream showed you.” Kraglin smiles. “Guess you ain’t getting rid of me that easily.”

“Not at all. You can’t die now. You’ve got to be Captain one day. And I’m going to be your Horuz. And we’re going to use Eclector to free all the prisoners and slaves. Every single one.”

Kraglin chuckles, but his smile quickly falls as he notices the expression change on the young Terran’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just...I keep thinking about Mom. And, I know it’s been a long time, but I still really miss her. And...even with you and Yondu and everyone here, I feel like I’m alone sometimes. Because it was always Me and Mom and now…”

“Hey.” Thinking fast, Kraglin indicates the walkman still attached to Peter’s trousers. “She gave you that, didn’t she?”

He nods, putting the scanner on the bed so that he can pick up the walkman. “We used to listen to it together. It’s was all the music she liked when she was growing up.”

“So, when you listen to it. You can remember being with her. Maybe...maybe that sort of keeps her alive.” Moving slowly, Kraglin picks up the headphones and puts them on the Terran’s head, switching the device on. “See. Close your eyes and pretend she's here.”

His eyes closed, Peter bites his bottom lip as he listens to the music, a single tear trickling down his cheek which he quickly wipes away with a frustrated swipe of his hand. When the song ends, he slowly takes the headphones off, and looks back up at the teen.

“You okay?”

“Yes.” Peter says, his expression plane. “I could remember her telling me about the song.”

“Listen to another.”

 

* * *

 

The corridor was empty as a smiling Peter walked down it, scanner in hand, lost in his music until the headset was suddenly removed from his head. 

“Hey?” He turned to find himself facing Yondu.

“Nice to see you smiling again.” Yondu says, dangling the headset just out of the Terran’s reach. “So we going to have less talk about death and dying from now on. Only you’ve been making the crew nervous.”

“Sorry.”

“Ah...ain’t your fault, Boy.” Yondu says, lowering the headset so that Peter can grab it. “So, it helping the way Kraglin said it would?”

Peter puts on an angry expression. “You shouldn’t listen to other people’s conversations.”

“My ship.” Yondu says, kneeling down to the Terran’s height. “And you _didn’t_ answer the question.”

Peter shrugs, then nods, his smile returning.

“Good.” Yondu says, ruffling the boy’s hair before standing. “Get to your bunk. Ain’t much of the night left.”

“Yondu?”

The Centaurian just about managed to not roll his eyes at the questioning tone. “Be quick?”

“How do YOU remember people that died?”

His expression hardens. “I ain’t one for dwelling on the past, boy.”

“Do you ever have nightmares about them, like I was?”

Yondu lets out a deep breath. “Go to bed.”

“Sorry.”

“Told you before about apologising for shit that ain’t your fault.”

“I know.”

Yondu doesn’t say anything else, he just walks away.

 


End file.
